


Poetry in Motion

by Heronymus



Category: Firefly
Genre: F/F, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-06
Updated: 2004-12-06
Packaged: 2019-04-29 07:19:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14467728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heronymus/pseuds/Heronymus
Summary: Poetry is the music of the heart.  River let's the poem speak for her.





	Poetry in Motion

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Firefly’s Glow](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Firefly%27s_Glow), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Firefly's Glow collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/fireflysglow/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** This is what happens when you read too many Billy Collins poems. The poem in question is "Litany" by Billy Collins.

  
Author's notes: This is what happens when you read too many Billy Collins poems. The poem in question is "Litany" by Billy Collins.  


* * *

Poetry in Motion

## Poetry in Motion

Simon and Jayne and Book are playing cards again. 

"Tall card is Peach." 

Peach. Soft, sweet, fuzzy, golden delicious. Golden Delicious, that's an apple. An apple a day keeps the doctor away. Only Simon doesn't want to leave, and Kaylee doesn't want him to stay away. Kaylee wants him inside. 

Kaylee. Peach. Kaylee's a peach; a little sun in the palm of the hand, a little ball of glowing energy that warms everyone around. Simon likes Kaylee's peaches, little warm round mounds trapped by the cotton shirts and denim jumpers. 

"Two, please." Even playing cards, even with Jayne, Simon is polite. Sometimes to a fault. He can't help it; it's his nature, though nurture is starting to wean him away from the stiff stilted stammers of stagnation. Simon is changing, melting into Serenity the same way she did. Just because the story's not real, doesn't mean it's not true; she melted away, but she couldn't leave. 

"Fold." Jayne's always angry. It's a ground-state for him, it seems. The core of him is angry because of fear. Fear of what, River isn't sure. Yet. It's a matter of time, though. One of these days, he'll open up like a hand of cards. 

"I'll take one." Book is a liar. Not a bad liar, but a liar nonetheless. Like all the best lies, most of him is truth. But not all of him. The lies are becoming less and less, though, as he settles into the Book-shaped hole in Serenity. It was just waiting for him to fill it. 

"Call." The cards are laid down, and Simon rakes in a pile of scraps of paper, objects made valuable by the promise written on them. 

Kaylee. In all the swirling, twirling, whirling thoughts, Kaylee is the touchstone. Round and round and back again. Smile like a flash, eyes like diamonds, hair like silk, face like spotlight, shiny and bright. Breasts like peaches, hips like a real woman, not all stick-figure-straight, all curves convex and concave, third and fourth-order curves, an attack of differential calculus of beauty. 

Kaylee is so beautiful. She is a landscape all her own. She's not even in the room, and yet her presence, her beauty is felt. 

"Tall card is plum." 

Kaylee is not the plum. 

She is not the plum on the counter, or the pine-scented air. 

It's the engine room. Kaylee is here. She is scrunched up under the beating heart of Serenity, feet peeking out. She scoots out again, and looks up, and the sun comes up in her smile. 

"River? You need somethin', sweetie?" 

For moment, all there is in the world is a dry mouth and longing. But the moment passes; time speeds up again. 

"you are not the wind in the orchard,  
the plums on the counter,  
or the house of cards.  
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air. There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air." 

"Uh-huh..." 

"It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge, maybe even the pigeon on the general's head, but you are not even close  
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk. 

"And a quick look in the mirror will show that you are neither the boots in the corner nor the boat asleep in its boathouse." 

"River, is this some sort of poem?" 

"It might interest you to know,  
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world, that I am the sound of rain on the roof. 

"I also happen to be the shooting star, the evening paper blowing down an alley and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table. 

I am also the moon in the trees  
and the blind woman's tea cup." 

Kaylee has stopped trying to understand. She's just listening, now. And her lips are slightly parted, and her eyes are closed, and she looks eminently kissable, if the world felt like ending in this very moment it would almost be OK. 

"But don't worry, I'm not the bread and the knife." 

With that line, there is fear, suddenly, but there's more to the poem. 

"You are still the bread and the knife. You will always be the bread and the knife, not to mention the crystal goblet and--somehow--the wine." 

There is a moment of silence, and then Kaylee looks up and blinks. 

"I don't think I get it, hon." 

Kaylee is the wine, intoxicating, spirit of the soul. She deserves to be drunk. 

Just a kiss. 

Her face is surprise, but her breath, her heart, her eyes are longing. 

Just a taste. Now, the world can end.

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

Title:   **Poetry in Motion**   
Author:   **Heronymus**   
Details:   **Standalone**  |  **PG-13**  |  ***slash***  |  **4k**  |  **12/06/04**   
Characters:  Kaylee, Jayne, Simon, River, Book   
Pairings:  River/Kaylee   
Summary:  Poetry is the music of the heart. River let's the poem speak for her.   
Notes:  This is what happens when you read too many Billy Collins poems. The poem in question is "Litany" by Billy Collins.   
  



End file.
